Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Ever since I posted that clip of drunk Superman last week I can’t stop thinking about him. I was never really a rabid Superman fan growing up but we did share our moments. The first movie I ever watched on our Betamax was Superman and when iron on t-shirt shops were all the rage I remember getting a Superman t-shirt made at Oakville Place. Actually it was a sweatshirt. I demanded a sweatshirt because it had long sleeves and Superman’s costume had long sleeves. Yes my parents probably had to shell out an extra 10 bucks but not for their son’s love of Superman. No it was because their son was a pedantic little shit when it came to costume details. Oh well, I was just a kid. What’s this guy’s excuse?

Faster than a locomotive but not as fast as the A43 bus apparently.

I was never really into the Superman comics, although there was this big book at the Burlington Public Library that had a collection of some of the older ones that I used to look at. I remember one had a barber trying to cut Superman’s hair and breaking his scissors.

Yep, that’s the one.

I always liked things like that. The whole idea of extraordinary individuals faced with absurd yet ordinary situations. I mean who knew Superman’s hair even grew? How does he cut it anyway? And what about his whole romantic involvement with Lois Lane? In the movies he always had that infatuated awkwardness thing going on around her when he was Clark Kent. And it wasn’t just an act because he even used his x-ray vision to check out her panties as Superman.

Insert Fortress of Solitude wankadex joke here.

Could they even have a sexual relationship? What if Superman got caught up in the heat of the moment and his super loins jack hammered poor Lois into hamburger? And speaking of hamburger, does Superman eat? And if so does he shit? And if so does he have to shit in a special toilet that can handle it? Or maybe he flies out into space to drops tights. Or maybe his shit is so deadly that he has to throw it into the sun the way he did with all those nukes in Superman IV.

That’s what I want to know. Oh wise and powerful Magic Internet, suspend disbelief momentarily and shed some light on the gastrointestinal secrets of Superman.

Magic Internet Answer:Sigh, such a stupid question. But I shall entertain it only because it will be a welcome distraction from the repetitiveness of having to look up Megan Fox taking a shit. Many different comic book writers and artists have taken up the character of Superman and put their own spin on his life and history. So when it comes to the subject of Superman’s digestive system there has been a lot of speculation with no concrete facts. Most Superman enthusiasts will agree that Superman obtains most if not all of his energy from absorbing the rays of the sun. It is said that he doesn’t need to eat but does so out of habit. Although he is an extraterrestrial he had a fairly normal upbringing on a farm for 18 years where he would have enjoyed home cooking and many of the other joys of farm life.

Wow. Imagine how fast Superman could Hambone!

Collecting energy from the sun might suggest that Superman shares some characteristics with earth’s plant life but his body is most definitely of an anthropomorphic make up. So it must contain a stomach and a digestive track. And even a plant cannot live on sunlight alone. So for those who say that Superman only eats out of a force of habit, from a scientific perspective they are wrong. But what becomes of the food that Superman eats. Many enthusiasts say that Superman absorbs 100% of the food that he ingests leaving no waste. But again from a scientific perspective this seems impossible. So if it is known that Superman eats. Then yes, he shits. Where does he shit? Well if I am to suspend disbelief as you suggested then I am free to come up with my own hypothesis. Superheroes are very image driven and it is often the upkeep of this image that keeps the majority of uneducated lesser beings (i.e. humans) from becoming frightened or agitated with them and turning on them. Therefore it would not be good for Superman to have civilians see him shitting. Not to mention the damage that it would do. His Fortress of Solitude in the Arctic seems an ideal place for defecation. The name its self suggests privacy. In fact I’m sure many Superman fans have even coined the phrase when referring to their own toilets.

Unnhh, do you know what happens when you keep reversing time and eating the same Double Down? Unnnggghhh, sadly I do.

Any byproducts of Superman also contain superhuman properties and could pose a risk to mankind if they fell into the wrong hands. Like when Lex Luthor stole a strand of Superman’s hair from a museum display where it was holding up a 1000 pound ball and used it to create Nuclear Man.

All the old Superman hair from the movie is also on display at a museum.

It looks like it could threaten mankind with 25 year old head lice.

I would say that the easiest way for Superman to neutralize the threat posed by his own leavings would be to freeze them with his super cold breath and throw them into space. Perhaps directly into the sun as you suggested.

Ahhhhh. Pizza Hutt Buffett. I better get over to the Weather Network now and let them no it’s gonna be a hot one tomorrow.

I knew it! I’m so smart. And here’s something I bet you didn’t know about Superman. He’s actually Canadian!

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

So I see that the FDA just unveiled new graphic warning labels for cigarette packs in the USA. We’ve had those in Canada for quite a while now. Let’s have a look at some of the designs the U.S. MAD-ministration of Food and Drugs Men came up with.

She’s blowing smoke right in the baby’s face! Who does that? She’s either incredibly ignorant or knowingly blowing smoke in her child’s face as a form of abuse. That means she’ll probably kill that baby through ignorance, neglect or a plain old shaking long before it dies from second hand smoke. They should slap this picture of the kid’s dad on the other side of the pack.

That raccoon’s got my smoke! Get it back for daddy.

We have a teeth one here too but it only warns about mouth disease.

The US seems to have one uped us with that gross lip sore though. Oh yeah? Well we beat you at hockey.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Now that’s not even a warning. That’s more like good advice. And with his shirt open like that he’s kind of like Superman. Maybe they’re trying to say if you quit smoking you’ll feel invincible like Superman. But he doesn’t really look happy about it, does he? He looks pissed off like he’s going to punch me. He looks more like that mean drunk Superman from Superman 2. I wonder how many shots it takes for Superman to get wasted. I wonder how many smokes he could smoke!

Probably like this many!

This one is pretty effective. Those trach. holes are pretty creepy. And it’s even worse when you see someone smoking out of one. It always reminds me of Juno the social worker from Beetlejuice.

And you know what the worst is? All the public servants in the afterlife in Beetlejuice were suicide victims. So does that mean she slit her own throat?! That’s pretty hardcore. They should put her on the pack with a message that says, All you smokers are committing suicide just like me, only slower. And then you’re going to have to deal with a bunch of no-nothing shitheads everyday in the afterlife equivalent of the passport office.

Or just put picture of Beetlejuice on the pack.

That creepy little fucker would scare anyone away.

I don’t know. That starched white shirt and loosened silk tie are a warning sign also. This man could just as easily be a product of the rat race. All those rare steak power lunches, coffee fueled Johnson report all-nighters and heart rate throttling the CEOs are in town lap dance grinds can take their toll on a man.

See these business guys don’t appear to be smoking AND they work out.

Don’t get me wrong it’s a good warning but maybe they should add something about the counter-productivity of smoking to the package for business men. All that time spent outside smoking when you could be working.

There you go, that’ll do. Just don’t give out butts with that picture on it to guys in prison. Cigarettes in jail are the same as money. (And so are prison guys butts.)

What is that, a cartoon baby? Who cares about a cartoon baby? What, you could blow smoke in a real toddlers face for the first one but for a baby you have to use a cartoon? And it’s not even a good cartoon. What is that thing on its arm, an iPod? You should have at least got a better cartoonist like John Pound. He’s the guy that drew Garbage Pail kids. He could have drawn a baby way grosser than that.

See! SEEEEE!

Ewww gross! Wait, which ones am I supposed to be grossed out by? This reminds me of that great stand up routine Norm McDonald used to do about smoking.

The pair of lungs on the right look camouflaged. Maybe hunters should smoke so if they’re ever attacked by a bear and it rips open their chest, they can still hide.

Roooaaaar wait, wait a minute what? There was a guy here and I was eating his chest and now he’s gone?! There’s just a pile of leaves. A pile of bloody, heaving shaking, screaming leaves. Oh well I’m off to the dump.

I don’t know. It seems like they’re spending an awful lot of money trying to reinforce something that every idiot should know by now. And isn’t smoking on the decline in the west? You can hardly smoke anywhere in North America. I’m pretty sure that’s why sexy Johnny Depp moved to France.

Which is funny because didn’t America invent smoking? Or wasn’t it at least discovered there and then passed on to the Europeans? Oh Magic Internet. I am sending you heap big smoke signals.

Question 44: Is America responsible for smoking?

Hmm, this is an interesting question and one of your least stupid yet. The answer is yes with an underlying no. You see smoking can be traced all the way back to sometime between 5000-3000 BC. Early South American civilizations would burn incense during rituals, a practice that was later adapted for pleasure.

Well that sure stood the test of time.

Although Columbus reported seeing American Indians smoking tobacco in the 1400s and was even given dried leaves as a gift, it was reported that he threw them away and tobacco was not properly introduced to Europe and Asia until the 16th century where it followed common trade routes.

Way to go Columbus. Another reason while you’ll never be as cool as Andrew Dice Clay.

Why don’t you go discover planet Fagatron, Ohhh!

Yes, yes, Johnny. Enough of that buffoon known as the Dice Man. Early American settler John Rolfe was credited as the first person to successfully raise tobacco as a cash crop. This became a boon for early American settlers with much of their harvest being shipped to the old world. But it was Jean Nicot who first introduced it to Europe through France and it is from his name that the word nicotine derives from. So you see although smoking may have originated in the Americas and appears to be first discovered there it was in fact a Frenchman who was to cause it’s spread throughout Europe.

Always blame the French, huh?

Oh well. Thanks for the info. Magic Internet. I think we all had fun today. Oh and Chris, sorry for saying that Andrew Dice Clay is cooler than you. I think you could definitely give him a run for his money now.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

What does it mean? Well today is the day that the earth’s axis is tilted 23.4 degrees relative to the sun and the sun’s rays are at their most powerful here on earth. So what should you do? Well if you’re in or near England and you’re one of those smelly hippy types you can head over to England’s oldest tourist trap Stonehenge.

Just don’t drink too much mead and don’t forget your wizard costume or you won’t be allowed to participate in the super hot revolting 78some.

But seriously what it really means is the start of summer. Today it officially begins. And I can’t help but reminisce about some of the great summertime fun I’ve had over the years…

How I Spent My Summer Vacation: Age 8.

Growing up in Burlington my house backed onto a creek. I spent a lot of happy times playing in that creek and summers were no exception. One summer day I was playing in the creek with this kid named Luke. Luke was never really a friend. He was one of those future mental cases that would beat you up one day then knock on your door the next and ask if you wanted to come out and play. If you said no, he’d beat you up the next day. So many of us neighborhood kids tolerated him but never really liked him. Kind of like that stupid Ewoks cartoon they played on Sunday afternoons.

I still get a hint of back to school tomorrow depression when I hear that horrible theme song.

So there we were me and Luke marching up the creek with sticks. I don’t remember what we were doing. I want to say we were searching for treasure. Because treasure we did find. Luke was in front leading the march and as we rounded a bend in the creek he spotted something. It was a plastic bag partially submerged in the water!

But better yet Luke exclaimed that there was something metallic sticking out of the bottom of it. Now this definitely warranted a closer inspection. For mankind’s lust for that which is shiny and metal has brought civilizations to their knees. I surged forward to get a better look but Luke pushed me back and grabbed the bag. Not wishing to share in the spoils.

Now this is where I will stop my tale to explain something. Just imagine you’re Fred Savage and I’m the story telling Granddad from Princess Bride played by Colombo.

You see the creek didn’t just back onto my yard. It backed onto many yards in the neighborhood. Some of these yards had sizeable lawns and back then you couldn’t buy these:

So lazy guys would just wheelbarrow their leaves and grass down to the bottom of the yard and dump it in the creek. But some of these yards had dogs and even lazier guys. Now with that in mind, let’s continue.

Luke hauled the bag up over his head in an effort to both keep it away from me and to examine the shiny metal thing. Well that shiny metal thing? It was an old ripped up pop can. And its sharp edge wielded by the forces of weight and gravity made short work of the bottom of that bag. Spilling it’s bounty of liquid dog shit all over Luke.

File Photo: Luke’s treasure.

He ran screaming home and as I couldn’t think of what else to do, I ran right after him. By the time I reached his house he was already inside, not to be seen again that day. But I did see his older brother Tyler. He looked at me and said in a Kung Fu voice, Asss-ho! You want the dewy max? Turn your balls into fortune cookie. And he kicked me nuts. And that’s how I spent my summer vacation.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Sometimes I wonder about all you folks out there reading my blog. I wonder who you are and why you’re reading.

Maybe some of you are 1940s federal agents that accidently fell into a confiscated time machine in one of the Hoover building’s evidence lockers while trying to sneak a quick belt of hooch. And now you’ve been thrust forward into the modern world where you’re hanging on my every word waiting for me to say something pro-communist.

Maybe some of you are highly stylized vainy ninja turtles. Intrigued by my frequent mention of C.H.U.D.s as you live in the sewer and hoping to learn more in between intense lifting competitions.

And maybe some of you are as equally intrigued by me. You may be sitting their wondering, Who is this slightly demented individual, where does he live and why is he so obsessed with midgets and hot dogs?

Electron Microscopic File Photo: My brain.

I could never hope to answer all your queries. But I can shed some light on a couple. Hot dogs are easily transportable, nostalgic and delicious and as for my domestic situation…

A refrigerator box?

Yeah right. Like I can afford a place downtown.

One of those Jason shacks in the woods complete with mother’s head shrine?

Exterior File Photo: Curb appeal

Interior File Photo: Staging.

No. I see enough of my mother as it is. I’d rather have the head of the mother off the Wonder Years. So I can shout at it as a stress relief.

Your husband Jack was such an asshole and you just stood there in the kitchen and took it! And why aren’t you out on DVD yet??!!

But I did recently purchase a house. It’s a nice little house in the east end of the city. And you know what I learned? I learned that the house paint industry is now run by pedantic fuckwits . Let me give you an example. Let’s say I want to purchase some white paint. The last time I bought white paint it came in maybe 3 varieties. There was gloss white, shell white and at a push some form of ivory white. Do you know what I have to deal with now? Tell ‘em Micro Machines guy.

Excuse me Home Depot while I go eat 5 tins of Alphaghetti and puke all the Ws, Ts and Fs all over your fucking paint swatches. They’re all white and this is bullshit! When I was in school my best friend in art class was a guy by the name of Roy G. Biv. If you knew Roy, he’d always help you out come test time. You know why? I’ll tell you.

Red

Orange

Yellow

Green

Blue

Indigo

Violet

Those are all colours. (Although, if you ask me, even indigo and violet are pushing it.) Yes you can get different tones and hues but I hardly think you need some over paid think tank sitting in their offices, downing scotches ala Don Drapper, trying to reinvent the names of colours so they better reflect someone’s mood/food & beverage choice/wedding day.

Megan, call up Benjamin Moore and inform him that orange and brown mixed together is now Country Store.

Burgandy’s Corrrrdoooooovan, wahaaa-ha-ha-ha.

That aside, I do have a few of my own:

bachelor porcelain

veggi dog

some asshole’s car yellow

Some asshole’s car yellow also comes in a brighter hue called some asshole’s jetski yellow. Hey speaking of yellow, I heard a while back that someone did a study or something that showed there was a greater degree of domestic violence in homes that have yellow kitchens.

Guess what colour paint I spilled in the garage?

I don’t know if it was the yellow colour that angered people or if painting your kitchen yellow is a sign of social instability but I always took it as fact. Do you think it’s true? Do yoooou think it’s true Magic Internet?

Question 43: Do yellow kitchens increase domestic violence?

Magic Internet Answer:There is absolutely correlation between a domicile’s kitchen colour and an increase in domestic violence. And you Johnny are a complete idiot for believing otherwise.